


The Time Sammy Wouldn't Sit This One Out (And Dean Had To Be A Hooker

by hishn_greywalker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, crack motw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-14
Updated: 2007-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:26:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hishn_greywalker/pseuds/hishn_greywalker
Summary: Forsvmadelyn's [Kink/Cliché Challenge], "Undercover as a prostitute" (or hooker AU. But I didn't do that).





	The Time Sammy Wouldn't Sit This One Out (And Dean Had To Be A Hooker

**Author's Note:**

> warning for the crack!MotW. 1,400 words. Thanks to my girl, [](http://waterofthemoon.livejournal.com/profile)[waterofthemoon](http://waterofthemoon.livejournal.com/) for her support, her amazing beta (ZOMG the tense changes she had to fix! You guys have NO IDEA) and for drawing [[this picture of hooker!dean](http://pics.livejournal.com/unperfectwolf/pic/000c4h9g)] for me.

Dean's plan was to waltz in there, pay for a lap dance, and start asking questions. Sam took two point five seconds to shoot that down, rolling his eyes when his brother couldn't quite grasp the idea that maybe a bunch of hookers moonlighting as strippers weren't going to answer question from two guys they'd never seen before.

"Dean, they're hookers. What they do is illegal. We could be cops—they don't know!" Sam told him for the seventh time.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, then, what's the plan, geek boy?"

"One of us has to go in as one of them, so they'll talk to us."

Dean froze, then turned until he was facing him head on. "What? I'm not doing it!"

Sam shrugged. "Fine, whatever," he told Dean with an indulgent sigh. "I'll do it."

"Oh hell no," Dean told him after half a second, nearly gaping at him. "No way in hell you're gonna do it."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Well, then you're gonna have to do it, because otherwise I have to."

Dean glared at him. "Fine, I'll do it."

Sam made sure Dean had turned away before he grinned.

 

Sam swallowed hard when Dean came out of the bathroom on the night he was starting at the club. He was wearing tight, torn jeans and a tee shirt that Sam recognized from before he'd gone to Stanford, pulled out of the bag they never used that had all the clothes that were in too good condition to be thrown away but that didn't fit quite right anymore—also known as the bag they raided on laundry day.

Now Dean was wearing a tee shirt that was tight across the shoulders and hung just to the top of his jeans, riding up with any movements to flash a bit of skin. He grinned at Sam, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Well?"

Sam swallowed hard a second time. "They won't know what hit them."

 

Seeing his brother dressed like that was one thing. Sitting in the back of the club like they'd agreed on and watching him strip for a bunch of mostly old, pretty much all creepy men was another.

For the first few seconds, Sam had worried. Dean was all confidence normally, but normally he got to keep all of his clothes on, and normally he had at least one weapon on him. He shouldn't have worried though, because once Dean was past the first few seconds, he did fine.

Sam didn't know what to make of the fact that Dean barely took his eyes off him.

 

It took three days before Dean figured out the common link between all of the boys who had been killed. He explained it to Sam while sitting in a booth at an all night diner after he had finished at the strip club for the night, some time after two am.

"So you figure out how to kill it?" Sam asked, swirling the dregs of his coffee around in his cup.

"Yeah. But Sammy, it'll be better if you sit this one out," Dean told him.

Sam's immediate reaction was to sit up straight. "No fucking way, Dean."

Dean just stared at him for a moment before leaning back in his seat. "Yeah, okay, I figured that. Sammy—" He sighed.

Sam sat in silence for a few moments, his brow furrowed. Dean didn't usually give in that easy, which meant that he probably really did want Sam there, he just didn't want to say so. "What's the plan?"

"I—" Dean glanced around the diner. It had been obvious from the first night after, when they'd stopped in, that the staff here was fully aware of what went on at the strip club. It had only taken their waitress a glance to figure out Dean was new there, although her eyebrow had gone up when she'd eyed Sam.

That still didn't mean the place was safe to have this discussion.

 

When they got back to the motel room, the first thing Dean did was change his clothes. After a few minutes of pacing, he settled down into a chair. Sam was sitting on the bed, still worried.

"Dean?"

"Just— why couldn't you just agree to sit this one out?" Dean asked, more to himself as he ran a hand across his face.

Sam frowned but didn't say anything. After a minute, Dean sighed. "The only way the thing will come out is if you're fucking me. And there's a few other things, like which room we're in, and how, but I think we can take care of that later."

Right then, Sam really did want to sit this one out, but he couldn't, not if it meant Dean was going to have to let some random creep pay to fuck him so that more hookers wouldn't be drained completely dry.

"Yeah, okay."

 

Two nights later, Sam slipped the money to the owner of the club. The owner nodded, and a large, burly man led him back down a hallway. He was let into a room with one last glare from the bouncer, and the door was pulled shut behind him.

Dean sat in the room, clad only in a pair of jeans that had more than a few rips in them, the newer ones strategically placed. Sam froze just for a second. "Is this the right room?"

Dean nodded, standing slowly. "Look, they tape everything that happens in these rooms, so we have to make this look authentic or Big and Silent there will be back. They can't hear us, but they can see, and I guarantee someone's watching."

"I – all right. What exactly needs to happen tonight?" Sam asked, still unsure.

"A few things. But don't worry about it, okay? Just sit down, and we can get this over with." Dean nodded to the chair he'd been sitting in.

Sam moved across the room and sat down, not liking the fact that he had no idea where the night was going but understanding why Dean would rather just do it than sit and talk about it beforehand.

 

Dean straddling his lap and nipping at his neck shouldn't have been hot. But it was. It was hotter than anything he'd seen or done in a long time, in fact.

"It's all right, Sammy," Dean murmured against his neck, and Sam groaned nearly silently. "You can touch me. In fact, you should."

Sam didn't know what to do, so he slid his hands up Dean's thighs, one resting there, the other continuing up and slipping around him to his lower back. He ran his fingers under Dean's waistband, causing Dean to arch towards him.

"Mmm, Sammy. You're gonna have to fuck me. And from everything I've learned, more than once," Dean told him, nipping his neck softly again. "The thing is set off by the fact that there's no condoms. Apparently if they pay extra, the boss lets them fuck whoever without one." Dean leaned back. "You got the gun, right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Okay."

 

There should have been no way that Sam could fuck his brother. Nor should there have been a way he could do it more than once in a night. But he could, he was, and Dean still felt tight around him the second time.

He was almost there, knew he was just a few short thrusts from coming, and then something was wrong. The air in the room changed, the lights started flickering, and Sam almost forgot about the gun tucked up next to Dean's head.

Dean didn't, though, and it only took three shots before the lights quit flickering and whatever it is that was killing the hookers is a pile of goo on the floor.

Dean was still hard between them, and Sam was still buried in him. Dean arched, pulling Sam as close as possible with the leg he had wrapped around him. Sam shifted back, then in again, and Dean came, moaning low.

 

When they got back to the motel, Dean stripped his tee shirt off and dropped it by his bag. He arched his back, sighing. "Dude, I need a shower so bad."

Sam frowned, but he didn't say anything as Dean moved into the bathroom. Dean stopped in the doorway, turning to Sam questioningly. "You coming or not?" he asked, smirking.

Sam paused, then moved forward, plans of how to wipe the smirk from Dean's face running through his head.


End file.
